


Like Streaming Water

by crackerjackermackeral



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - The Time Traveler's Wife Fusion, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Female Usopp - Freeform, Introspection, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-02-16 09:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21506011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackerjackermackeral/pseuds/crackerjackermackeral
Summary: Growing up, Donquixote Doflamingo always had a certain someone popping in and out of his life. And it was that someone that he had vowed to one day catch.Or rather: The Time Traveler's Wife AU, except with clothes on.
Relationships: Donquixote Doflamingo/Usopp
Comments: 33
Kudos: 98





	1. 7, 8, 9

Doflamingo remembered first meeting her in his bedroom last year.

It had been a blur, but he distinctly recalled rummaging through his toy chest when— _pop_!—there had been a woman standing in the center. Surprised, he had jolted and had lost his footing, his arms windmilling as he had fallen on his rear.

He remembered feeling embarrassed. He remembered hearing her laughter and then feeling angry. He also remembered her telling him an absurd story and playing a game with him. For some reason, he hadn't called the guards on her despite her being a peasant trespassing in his private quarters. Such crime would have warranted her to be skinned alive and hanged and be made as an example for her fellow filth to learn from, and yet he had permitted her to stay.

Even now, when— _pop_!—the woman had appeared right before him, there wasn't any clarity as to how she had made her arrival, even when the area had been heavily guarded. It was as if she just materialized out of thin air.

The woman blinked, looked around, and then lowered her chin so that their eyes met. "You're so tiny!" she marveled.

Doflamingo reflexively scowled, opening himself to indignation. But just before he could part his lips to say something, he faltered when he got a good look at her.

The woman appeared to be significantly younger than how she had been last year, yet the long nose, curly hair, and round eyes were undeniably hers. While it would have been rational to conclude that this girl was a relative, a daughter even, for some inexplicable reason, Doflamingo knew that she wasn't. She was the same woman from before. Just younger.

"So, how old are you now? Five?" the girl inquired.

The scowl was back. "I'm seven," he snapped. "And refrain from speaking to me casually, peasant! I already told you of this."

"I met you _before_ you were seven? Ah geez." She rubbed the back of her head, and a wrinkle formed between her brows. "I hope I won't get as far as your birth. That'd be awkward."

Annoyance gave way to confusion. "What about my birth? And why do you look so different?"

"What do you mean? Like, why do I look younger or older?" She paused for a second. "This is the first time I see you younger than eleven, so I would have to be younger, wouldn't I?"

What? "Are you brain damaged?" he asked seriously. "Clearly, you must be if you yourself don't know."

The girl scrunched her nose. "Precocious brat."

Doflamingo gaped at that. Yes, he was precocious; he was clever and talented and superb in every way. All his tutors had claimed that he was quite advanced for his age, and Mother and Father had proudly relayed his accomplishments to their peers. But to be called as a _brat_? By a filthy long-nosed commoner no less? She didn't even have the audacity to address him as such before!

"How dare you?" he screeched. "I'll have you know that I am Donquixote Doflamingo, son of Donquixote Homing and Delilah, a Celestial Dragon, a noble of nobles! People have perished for lesser offenses, so who do you think you are to call me a brat?"

The girl appeared to not know how to respond to that as a flurry of emotions flitted across her features. Finally, she settled with "Did my older self not tell you?"

Her older what? Bewildered and further peeved, he stared at her as he tried to make sense of her words. By her older self, what did she mean? The…her from last year...? His mind promptly dove into his memories of last year, yet the obscurity that veiled these mental images remained. His brows knitted together as he concentrated on the events that took place that day in his bedroom, and the only new piece of information that he could pry was her pressing her lips to his forehead.

He swiftly delivered a kick to her kneecaps.

"The _frick_." The girl immediately crumpled to ground, gripping her knee. "The hell was that for?" she cried.

Doflamingo shook and trembled and was unable to convey with words just why he had done what he had done. He couldn't even formulate a coherent reason in his head. All he knew was the heat of rage—of humiliation—simmering beneath his skin, and he felt his cheeks burn in tandem. When he gained some of his bearings, he mustered out, "For looking like an ugly hag!"

The girl fixed him a look of shock, and then she spat out, "Yeah, well, at least I don't have a stupid antenna for a hairstyle."

He bristled. "It's a Celestial topknot, you uncultured swine!"

"And you dress like a stuffed marshmallow!"

"You look like clownish dullard who has yet to receive any education!"

"You're a pompous spoiled brat who doesn't know what the definition of humble means!"

"Why would I need to be humble when I'm privileged?"

"Argh!" The girl thrusted her hands to the floor and pushed herself up, evidently exasperated. "You were so much easier to deal with when you were eleven!"

"I'm not eleven yet, you nincompoop!" Doflamingo countered, just as infuriated. "And if you hate being here so much, then get out of my family's garden!"

"I can't leave whenever I want, and, trust me, there's nothing more I want to do than to get out of here."

Doflamingo didn’t really know precisely what happened next aside from falling into another argument with the girl. But, before he knew it, he found himself shouting at the air, the girl being absent. He blinked and staggered backwards. He stood there for a moment with bated breath, anticipating to see if the girl would return. When she didn’t, Doflamingo turned around and left the garden with a bewildered huff.

* * *

When Doflamingo was eight, Father and Mother announced that they would be leaving Mariejois.

The day after their announcement, the girl appeared again.

Rather than his bedroom or the gardens, she showed up in Father’s office, which was where he happened to be.

“Ah!” Doflamingo fell off the chair, startled by the sudden appearance of another person. When he pulled himself up to see who it was, he groaned loudly.

“Oh, great. It’s you,” he groused, smoothing out the creases of his robe. “What is it this time? Just so you know, you shouldn’t be here.”

The girl smiled at him. “By the looks of things, neither should you.”

He sniffed and folded his arms across his chest. “This is Father’s office, and, as his son, of course I’m allowed to be here. Unlike you, peasant girl.”

Now that he was properly face to face with her, Doflamingo could see that the girl had once again altered her appearance. Last year, she had been scrawnier; currently, she appeared to be more padded in a way. Where before her bare shoulders and arms had looked like her skin had been mere wrappings for her bones, there was now a clear definition of muscle on her. Not only was her physique different, but so was her hair—it was longer and thicker. 

Doflamingo tried to recall what she had looked like when he had first met her, but he somehow only came up with a blank image. He frowned.

“Why so upset?” the girl said. “You’re really not happy me being here?”

“Should I be anything else?” he sneered. “For that matter, why are you so chipper? I would have thought that you’d be displeased to see me.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Why would I be?”

He pinned her a look. Was she daft? Surely she couldn’t have forgotten what happened the last time they had met. Even though it had been a year since, unlike their first encounter, Doflamingo was able to recall the interaction that had taken place quite vividly, and he was younger than her. What was her excuse? Perhaps the girl was one of those yokels who were mentally incapacitated? Well, such a thing wouldn’t be a rare occurrence among her kind, would it?

Taking pity on her, Doflamingo deigned to indulge her out of the goodness of his heart. “I kicked you.”

"Oh, yeah, that did happen, huh?" she said with a wry grin.

She was definitely brain damaged. What sort of person would smile at a thing like that? He rolled his eyes. “Whatever reason you have for being here, I must tell you to leave. A peasant has no business in being in Father’s office.”

“And his kid does?”

“Like I said, I am Father’s son.”

“Hm.” The girl leaned over to the desk, her eyes roving across the papers that were splayed on top. “Regardless, I’m sure that your father won’t appreciate you pilfering through his documents. Ah, this is about you moving out, isn’t it?”

His temper flared at the girl’s rudeness because, really, what peasant would be so daring as to land her eyes on a Celestial Dragon’s workstation? However, he knew that reprimanding her on her lack of decorum would do him no good since she had responded like the uncultured barbarian that she had been last year. Honestly, raising her voice at her superior? A barbarian indeed.

Yet his anger was abated by the slight panic that pierced through him. Was the girl jesting or did she truly know about his reasons for being here? Doflamingo didn’t know what would happen if she did know; for all he knew, she could simply poke fun at him, but it unnerved him, nonetheless.

Doflamingo threw up a façade of cool, refusing to allow the peasant to know what he was feeling. “Don’t presume things that you don’t know of, peasant,” he retorted primly, forcing his voice to not waver.

The girl turned towards him. The way she stared at him seemed as though she could read his thoughts. Saliva pooled in his mouth, and he willed himself to not gulp.

Suddenly, she gave him a gentle smile and said, “Sorry about that. I’ll be careful next time.”

He blinked, taken aback.

“But I’m afraid that I do have to do something, so…” she trailed off as she moved around him to get behind the desk. “Don’t mind me, okay?”

Doflamingo squawked. “You dare to—! How can you be so presumptuous? Get away from there!”

"Your older self said that I did this, so I'm doing it."

“My older _what_? You’re not making sense!”

“You’ll understand when you’re ten years older than me.”

Too baffled by that claim to make a proper retort—to do anything, really, all Doflamingo could do was watch the girl pull out documents from her satchel and replace them with the ones on Father’s desk. She then took the original documents and crammed them inside her satchel, which then kickstarted his brain into working again.

“Ah! What are you doing?” he demanded. “Put those back!” He launched towards her with the intent of stopping her. He had done it before and he could do it again! But just when he could bring up his heel, the girl danced away from his reach. There was a teasing smirk on her face that only served to incense him, and he bodily threw his weight in her direction. She evaded him again.

For the whole five minutes of this goose chase, not once did Doflamingo manage to touch her. The girl just kept…flouncing away. And she did this while _giggling_. Soon, the desire of wanting to return Father’s papers was substituted by the desire of bringing her down.

Which promptly vanished the moment Father’s voice could be heard through the wall.

For one heart-stopping second, Doflamingo and the girl exchanged wide-eyed looks. A second later, Doflamingo dove under Father’s desk while the girl… _Pop_! He scowled to himself. For someone who had insisted that she hadn’t been able to disappear on will, she certainly had convenient timing popping out of existence.

When he heard the twin doors swing open, he involuntarily let out a small gasp before pressing his hands over his mouth. Although his lips were tightly sealed, the inhales and exhales that came from his nostrils were deafening to his ears; he hadn’t realized how much he had exerted himself until now. In a desperate attempt to muffle his breathing, he covered his nose as well.

Doflamingo felt as though he was on the verge of passing out from what little air he was taking in, but the sounds of his father’s footsteps growing louder shocked him awake.

“—dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” The doors closed. Doflamingo sensed Father stopping behind the desk. He knew that Father would be displeased with him being here in his office without his permission, but he also knew that Father wouldn’t punish him for it. Still, it was preferable that he didn’t know that he was here, especially when that girl had swapped out Father’s documents with her own. The last thing he wanted was Father thinking that he was the one responsible for such a thing.

“Hm.” The rustling of papers stopped. The dial of the Den Den Mushi clicked several times until the snail let out a series of rings. “Hello, Mavis? I would like you to route a call for me to Vice Admiral Garp.”

When the Donquixotes left Mariejois, they headed for Foosha Village. 

* * *

When Doflamingo was nine, he decided that he hated Foosha Village.

He hated the windmills, the rolling hills, the bumpkins, the _peace_ and _quiet_. It was all so terribly _dull_. But what he especially hated was Monkey D. Dragon.

He hated him so much that he didn’t want to think of the reasons why he hated him. It was good enough to describe the Monkey boy to be a simply loathsome character.

While nothing else could compare what an utter _jerkface_ Monkey is, that didn’t negate the fact that Foosha Village was still a hellhole that he longed to escape from. Without their helmets, they were stuck breathing in the same filthy air as the peasants. Without their status, they were regarded to be these peasants’ _equal_.

Even if these lower lifeforms were ignorant of the Donquixotes’ true heritage, the fact that they couldn’t recognize his family’s innate superiority was baffling. To think that there existed people more dimwitted than that girl.

And true to their idiocy, the villagers persisted on treating the Donquixotes without reserve. They openly greeted them and blatantly showed their faces. Not once did they bow down in show of respect! The audacity was furthered when one of the men had _clapped his bare hand on Father’s arm._ Doflamingo thought that he was about to lose it when Father had chuckled and returned the touch.

Beyond his comprehension, Father and Mother continued to express their delight in posing as peasants and being a part of this disgustingly quaint community. Even Rosinante had caught on whatever ailment that had been addling their parents’ brains. There had been too many instances where he had caught his dear little brother _playing_ with these snot-nosed brats _on his own volition_. There was no prompting from Father or insisting from Mother; no, Rosinante was simply happy to be here.

Doflamingo was repulsed.

He had been here for only a year and he couldn’t readily adjust. With no servants and maids at his beck and call, he had to do everything by himself. With no accommodatable living arrangements, he was stuck residing in this cramped hut shared with three other people. With no chef, he had to bear eating whatever concoctions Mother would make. And as much as he loved Mother, that woman could not cook whatsoever.

Father and Rosinante might chuckle at Mother’s atrocious meals, and Mother might giggle along with them, but let it not be said that Doflamingo had warned them of their untimely deaths due to Mother’s persistent attempts. They would sooner die from their stomachs giving up on them than whatever disease they would inevitably catch.

And before he knew it, Mother was bedridden, pale and sickly.

“Just a cold,” the doctor said as he packed away his items. “She’ll be better in no time. All she needs to do is sleep and eat good food.”

The problem was that they had nothing edible or nourishing to provide to her as sustenance. Father was no longer chuckling as he frantically searched ways on how to properly prepare a meal. Rosinante was clinging onto Mother’s prone form, begging and praying for her recovery. And as for Doflamingo? He could only tremble in resentment. As Father fled from the house and begged their neighbors for assistance, as Rosinante wept and wept, and as Mother’s breathing grew shallower and shallower, Doflamingo just looked on at the fiasco with disdain and vindication.

He had warned them that living here hadn’t been for the best, that they ought to return home. But had they listened? No, they certainly had not. And now here they were, suffering because of the consequences—Father looking like a fool, Rosinante in distress, and Mother dying.

Mother was dying.

As much as Doflamingo liked being right, he didn’t like just how right he was in this case. 

“You’re looking glum.”

Doflamingo jolted. He looked around, his head snapping from side to side, but he didn’t see anyone. He rubbed his temple, wondering if the stress was getting to him to the point that he was hearing disembodied voices until he heard, “Up here.”

Perched on a branch of the tree that he was sitting against was the girl. She gave him a jaunty wave. “Long time no see,” she said cheerfully.

Doflamingo stared at her in bewilderment. For the first time, her appearance hadn’t changed. She looked exactly the same as she had last year.

Suddenly, the pain, suffering, and humiliation that he had been accumulating since the past year came crashing down on him. His fury was blazed anew, but this time unbridled and not towards his father. No, he saw that it hadn’t been Father’s fault all along; Father had merely been a proponent, but not the causation. That fault belonged solely to the one who was smiling blithely as though she had committed no wrongdoing whatsoever.

“You,” he seethed.

The girl hopped down. Her landing was clumsy, and she straightened up with a sheepish grin. Her smile slid off when her eyes landed on his face. “Hm?” She cocked her head to the side. “What’s the matter?”

_What’s_ the matter? Doflamingo was appalled. “This is all your fault!”

“Whoa there, buddy, what’d I—”

“Do not address me as such!” he snapped. “I am not your _buddy_ ; I am not your _friend_. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a witch who ruined my life!”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t understand—”

“If you hadn’t placed those papers on Father’s desk, then we wouldn’t be in this mess!” Doflamingo burst out. His rage burned on and on; it was fanned hotter and hotter now that he had a target to unleash all of his frustrations. Fists tightened into white balls at his sides, the edges of the nails digging into his palms. “We wouldn’t be stuck living in this disgusting hovel, being surrounded with these lowlife _rats_! Do you have any idea what hardships we had to endure? Do you?”

The girl stared at him owlishly. After a moment, she said, “Living like a regular person is hard?”

He bristled. “You—it’s your fault that Mother is dying! You killed her!”

“Okay, now that’s an unnecessary accusation—"

“She’s lying in her bed, horribly sick, and there’s nothing that we can do about it! The doctor here is so incompetent that the only thing he could offer us is useless advice. What sort of doctor not give his patient any medicine? We can’t even leave this dump to give Mother proper treatment, so we’re stuck here to rot!”

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay,” the girl said, trying to sound reassuring when she instead sounded grating (as usual). “Your mom isn’t going to die.”

“No, she is,” Doflamingo hissed. A lump formed in his throat, and he felt his eyes burn and well up with—no, he wasn’t crying! He was just in an unbearable amount of stress that he was getting congested! Which, once again, was the fault of the peasant who stood before him. “She’s _dying_!”

She frowned. “She’s not,” she insisted firmly. “Trust me—”

“Trust you?” he scoffed, unwittingly laughing at the idea. “How can I trust you when—"

“The people here are good! They’ll help your family out and your mom is going to recover, alright?” she snapped. Doflamingo flinched, shocked to hear the girl yell at him. She hadn’t yelled at him since… Well, actually, she more so had yelled at him than not given the number of encounters they had, and that number was what he could count off of on one hand. Nevertheless, to hear her raise her voice at him like this was somehow startling. The girl seemed to have noticed his shock when she adopted an apologetic expression.

“Look,” the girl began with a sigh, “I know that you’re having a hard time adjusting, but it’ll get better. Your mom is going to be healthy in no time. Just let the villagers here help out, yeah?”

The girl peered at him with wide, earnest eyes. Against his will, Doflamingo felt his ire subside until all there was left was an aching sorrow. He desperately wanted to cling onto his anger and continue to lash out at her. Anger was easy; anger was familiar. And yet it fell apart and crumbled at his feet, replaced by trembles and sniffles. When the girl wrapped her arms around him, he threw himself into her bosom and held on tight.

“I hate you,” he sobbed. “I hate you so much. This never would have happened if it weren’t for you!”

“It’ll get better,” she repeated softly, smoothing down his hair. “It’ll get better.”

Doflamingo screamed into her shirt because, _no_ , things would not get better—not as long as he was stuck here in Foosha Village. But what was the point of telling her that? She wouldn’t understand; she was too stupid to understand. So, he dealt with it by staining her top with his tears and snot and using her to muffle his wails. When he finally calmed down, when the convoluted mix of sadness and frustration faded to something less overwhelming, Doflamingo shoved the girl away.

“If Mother dies, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself,” he swore.

The girl scrunched her nose. “Sometimes, I forget what a homicidal brat you were.”

He grounded his teeth. If there was one thing that he hated most, it was being called a brat by an even bigger brat. “I change my mind,” he growled, thrusting a finger at her. “When I’m older, I’ll get out of this dump and find you and kill you! But not before I make you gargle your own blood and cry out for mercy.” It wasn’t a promise, but a _guarantee_. He was going to make her regret ever coming into his life.

The girl appeared surprised by his declaration, but she then surprised _him_ by _grinning_. "You can try, but you’ll have a hard time. I’m a pirate, and pirates don’t let themselves get easily caught, especially when they’re super strong like me,” she boasted, jabbing a thumb into her chest. She then added cheekily, “Not that you ever could.”

And, just like that, Doflamingo was fuming again. “I’ll catch you! You’ll regret saying those words, peasant!”

After five minutes of arguing, the girl popped out of existence. Doflamingo huffed at the coward’s oh-so convenient retreat before he spun on his heel and marched his way back to the shack. When he entered, he froze at the sight that was spread across the table.

Bundles of fruit and vegetables, rolls of bread, wheels of cheese, jugs of milk and juice, and jars of jam sat before him like a mouthwatering feast. A delicious smell wafted from a large pot. Doflamingo hurried towards it and peered into it, seeing a golden brown soup with vegetables and noodles. 

“Doffy!” Doflamingo whirled around, finding Father sitting next to Mother. Mother was donning a happy expression on her face while Father was smiling tearfully. Cradled between both of their hands were bowls of soup. “Doffy, we have food! Isn’t that wonderful?” Father said jubilantly.

Doflamingo stared at them, stunned. “How…?” he murmured.

“Our neighbors! Oh, they were so generous to give us all this,” Father explained, waving a hand at the food. “So kind! Why, even the mayor has offered to help me learn how to farm.”

“And Hanako-san said that she would teach me how to cook,” Mother chimed in, mirroring Father’s excitement.

He blinked rapidly, unable to register the words that came out of his parents’ mouths. He glanced around until he spotted his brother. Rosinante was sprawled on the floor, stomach noticeably rotund and face covered with crumbs.

“Rosi might have gorged himself to the point where he’s in a food coma,” Mother giggled.

“But we can’t do that anymore,” Father said, brows furrowing in concern. “We must be careful with what we have! We cannot allow our neighbors’ generosity to go to waste.”

“You’re quite right! But we should let Doffy enjoy himself, at least. It’s been such a long time since he got a chance to eat anything like this!”

_It’ll get better_ , the words echoed in Doflamingo’s head. _It’ll get better._

And, so, things have. From that day on, Mother’s health improved by leaps and bounds. In the meantime, Father tirelessly toiled outside under Mayor Woop Slap’s guidance. Even Rosinante opted out of playing with the local children to assist Father. When Mother had finally reached full recovery, she spent many hours of her day with that old croon Hanako, learning not only to cook but also how to clean and knit.

Their situation was such a turnaround, going from whimsical awe to single-minded focus. Everyone was keyed on surviving rather than wasting, on adapting rather than languishing. Everyone was truly determined on moving past their Celestial Dragon status to becoming proper peasants. Yet, somehow, this development could no longer induce any disgust and anger as it had before. Because although Doflamingo hated the situation they were in, he wasn’t stupid to not notice that it was this lifestyle that kept them from expiring.

It was a lifestyle, however, that Doflamingo still couldn’t accept for himself.

He couldn’t settle for something like _this_. Rosinante could be fine with being a farmer, but Doflamingo knew that he was destined for life beyond these backwater fields. And, what was more, he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his vow to the girl if he stayed here. He needed to get out.

That was when, one day, he saw Monkey walking by. And he remembered the girl’s claim of being a pirate.

“Father, Mother,” Doflamingo announced over dinner, “I’ve decided that I will become a marine officer.”


	2. 10, 11, 12, 13

When Doflamingo was ten, he and Rosinante became Garp’s disciples. 

“I recall you telling me how your parents weren’t so thrilled about it,” the girl said, tapping her chin. 

Father and Mother had been fervently against the idea, worried that the marine life would be too taxing on him. However, Doflamingo had tried to set them straight that if they had expected him to accommodate to their lifestyle choices, then they ought to grant him the courtesy of allowing him to make his own. The argument had fallen short considering that he was the child and they were the adults, but Doflamingo was nothing if not persistent. Eventually, they had come to a compromise: Monkey D. Garp. 

Doflamingo had recognized the man as the one who had escorted them to Dawn Island. Apparently, Foosha Village was where he was from originally, which Doflamingo had figured as much given that his hell spawn was a resident. If the Monkey D. monikers hadn’t been an indication enough, then their impertinent personalities had certainly proved their relation. Most people would think that it should be the other way around, but Doflamingo disagreed. Sometimes, one could determine who was family just by behavior alone, and Garp and Dragon very much so behaved like a pair of insufferable nitwits. 

Although, Doflamingo had to admit (begrudgingly) that Monkey was a tad more bearable than his obnoxious father who clearly had no concept of an indoor voice. Actually, did the man even have an indoor voice? 

Father and Mother had been under the impression that Vice Admiral Garp was someone who they could entrust their son to. Whether it had been based off of familiarity or that he too had a son, Doflamingo had no clue, but he had been willing to bet on the latter. This had been compounded by the fact that all the children of the village had regarded Garp to be a pseudo grandfather of sorts. This had probably given Father and Mother the impression that Garp would treat Doflamingo as his own grandson. 

(Which, Doflamingo would later learn, was more or less accurate; just not in a way that his parents had expected a grandfather to treat his own grandson to be.) 

Just when Father and Mother had finally started to consider permitting Doflamingo to go, Rosinante had declared that he too desired to join the marines. That had set Doflamingo back to square one. 

“They also weren’t so happy with your brother wanting to join either,” the girl noted. 

They most certainly hadn’t been pleased about it, no. Why Rosinante had decided to become a marine went over his head; his brother wouldn’t bother to give his reason, but, well, whatever. If his baby brother wanted to chase after him, then who was he to oppose? His footsteps were worthy to be followed, after all, and who better to start than Rosinante? 

When Father and Mother had finally— _finally_ —given in, they had discussed arrangements with Garp before everything had been settled. 

Because Doflamingo and Rosinante were too young to be officially folded into the ranks, especially Rosinante since he was eight, they were to receive training, hence why they had been taken in as Garp’s disciples instead of Garp’s chore boys. It would be until they were sixteen respectively that they would be expected to start from the bottom and work their way to the top. 

Doflamingo sneered at this. Feh. The marines’ way of indoctrination in the guise of humility was a pointless endeavor. He was going to climb the ranks so fast that his time as a chore boy would be reduced to a day. If he played his cards right, he might not have to bother being one. Self-effacing bullcrap was all it was. 

“Hey, it builds character,” the girl said. “You’d benefit from it. It’ll let out some air that your ego’s been keeping in.” 

“Seems to explain your inflated one,” Doflamingo snarked.

“I am not egotistical!” she protested. “When did I ever give the impression that I am?” 

“You just told me that people address you as a god.” He arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t comparing oneself to a deity the very definition of egotistical?” 

“I wasn’t lying! People really do call me that!” 

He rolled his eyes. 

The girl changed again, but not so drastically.  She was as toned as before, but her hair was longer. Her tresses fell heavily on her back like a rug. A very fluffy rug. He had been astonished when she had first appeared covered in bandages and with a few contusions marring her features. Yet, despite the injuries, the girl had beamed brightly at him upon arrival, just like how she had always done. When he had asked her about it, she had begun to blabber on about some epic battle that she had partaken in, and he had shut her down with “Never mind. I don’t care.”

In addition to her injuries was her choice of wear. Instead of her typical ensemble consisting of a T-shirt and overalls, she wore a high-waisted _skirt_. A skirt of all things! Now he knew that the girl was hardly serious in her proclaimed piracy. When Doflamingo commented as such, the girl pouted. 

“There are marine ladies who wear skirts too! Why are you making fun of me with this?” she whined. 

“It’s part of their uniform,” he said. “You? You look like a poser.” 

She squawked. “I’m not a poser!” 

He snorted. “Whatever. Also, I never did tell you about Father and Mother being against the idea until today. You may stop pretending now.” 

The girl didn’t appear pleased by the topic change, obviously wanting to continue her assertion that she was not a poser (when she definitely was), but she didn’t press. “I’m pretty sure that I told you about meeting your older self, haven’t I?” 

“You speak nonsense as usual. Will you ever make sense?” 

“What? You don’t believe me?” The girl shot him a look. “Then how do you explain me popping in and out of your life? My constant nonlinear age change?” 

“Devil Fruit power,” Doflamingo supplied pointedly. 

After a moment’s pause, the girl nodded slowly. “Okaaay. So, you believe that I’m a Devil Fruit user with the ability to teleport and alter my appearance, but you don’t believe that I can travel through time?” 

“I never dismissed the idea that you’re a time travelling user. I just think that you speak nonsense.” 

“Alright, I give. Whatcha talking about, Doffy?” 

His eye twitched at the presumptuous familiarity, but he decided to ignore it. He was starting to accept that the girl was a lost cause in terms of instilling basic mannerisms. “You make the claim that you converse with my older self and do tasks for him. While I do see how you would end up carrying through my orders, I find it hard to believe that we would ever be amiable towards one another.” 

The girl stared. “There are so many things I want to comment on, but backtrack: When you say, ‘carrying through my orders,’ you say it as though I’m your maid or something.” 

“Goodness, certainly not!” Before the girl could visibly relax, he said, “If you were my maid, I would never have allowed you to wear such a ridiculous outfit.” 

“My outfit isn’t ridiculous!” the girl cried. “And, for your information, your older self happens to like my outfit!” 

Doflamingo scoffed. “Lies. And, what’s more, I wouldn’t allow any maid of mine to be a pirate. I also wouldn’t allow you to be one to begin with seeing how I’m going to kill you.” 

“Ooh.” The girl pursed her lips. “Hmm. I forgot that you were onto that.” 

This time, Doflamingo was the one who was affronted. “Excuse me?” 

“I mean, after all these years of knowing you, you never once tried to kill me.” 

He opened his mouth to say something—to counter, to insult, to remark—but nothing came out. Doflamingo had no way of verifying what the girl had said was true or not, but, despite her apparent proclivity to brandish the truth, he had a feeling that she wouldn’t lie about this. And...she did have a point. Supposedly she did encounter older versions of him, then it didn’t make sense that she was still standing here, very much well and alive. 

Doflamingo hadn’t attempted to attack her as of now since he was still in training. His plan was to become strong enough to pin her down and commence the beating, and then permanently silence her before she got the chance to disappear. There was without a doubt in his mind that he would become a powerful man and would easily overtake her, but...he hadn’t yet. He would not have done it. 

He closed his mouth when a thought occurred to him: Did this girl even exist in the same timeline as him? Right now, it was easy to dismiss her as an eccentric older girl who hardly possessed any maturity to prepare her for adulthood, but what if she actually wasn’t older than him? What if she was younger? What if she hadn’t been born yet? Or what if she existed in an era long before his time? 

The thought of putting an end to someone who was already dead felt so incredibly dismaying. Doflamingo’s mood soured. “What year were you born in?” he demanded to know. 

The girl looked at him in surprise. “Why do you want to know?” 

“To see if we could meet in person without you conveniently popping out,” he snapped. “Obviously.” 

“So that’s where that came from,” she murmured. “Huh.” 

Doflamingo scowled, impatient. “Answer my question, peasant! What year?” 

“Talk about nostalgic.” She shook her head. “Not going to tell you, Doffy. That’s for me to know and for you to find out.” 

By that, she meant that he would find out _not now_ , which he didn’t like at all. He scowled harder and marched towards her, trying to size her up despite only going up to her shoulders. “Tell me,” he growled. 

“Not with that attitude I won’t,” she chided playfully, wagging a finger in his face. 

He felt his temper rising. “Do you ever take anything seriously?” 

“What are you saying? I’m always serious!” 

“No, you aren’t!” he yelled, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation. “You hardly ever are!” 

She sniffed. “You so aren’t cute at this age, Dodo.” 

_Dodo_? “Don’t call me that!” 

“Nope!” she said cheerfully, and then had the gall to ruffle his hair. There was only one person outside of his family who was allowed to do such a thing, and that was Garp—only because he couldn't do a _freaking thing about it_ notwithstanding how much he loathed the old man treating him like a child. So, while he couldn’t prevent Garp’s brazen actions, he sure as hell was going to get straight with the idiot in front of him. 

“You little—” he started, gritting his teeth. 

“Look who’s talking, shorty,” the girl laughed. 

If his head was a volcano, it would be projecting lava to the high heavens. “ _That’s it_!” 

Five minutes of chasing the girl around in his room, painfully reminiscent of what he had done two years ago, the girl vanished, leaving only an echo of her giggling. Doflamingo flopped onto the floor, his chest heaving and sweat dotting his forehead. He still wasn’t able to catch her, but that was inconsequential. He was on his way of getting stronger, and he would one day reign victorious over her. He just needed to bide his time. 

* * *

When Doflamingo was eleven, he was startled by how remarkably different the girl looked. 

No muscles. No long hair. She was skinny and small and fragile-looking. She looked like how she had been when he had been seven. 

“Oh!” The girl stared at him with widened eyes. “Oh. Um. Hello. Do you—do you know who I am?” 

Doflamingo stared back, just as surprised as the girl. This was the first time he had ever seen her so...tentative? Nervous? Dare he said it, _shy_? Where was the effusive greeting? The obnoxious attitude? The stupidly bright smile that took up half of her face? His brows knitted together in bemusement as he carefully studied her features. She definitely was younger—probably the youngest that he had seen her yet. 

_This is the first time I see you younger than eleven, so I would have to be younger, wouldn’t I?_

“You...” he started, but then trailed off in uncertainty. He shook his head and pushed onward. “How old are you?” 

The girl blinked. “Fifteen. How old are you?” 

“Eleven,” he answered distractedly. Fifteen? She was still older than him, and yet she was so young at the same time. Younger. But she couldn’t have been any older than how she had been when they had met four years ago in the manor’s garden, that much he was sure of. Furthermore, he remembered her being forthright. She hadn’t been irritatingly jolly as he could typically characterize her as, but she hadn’t been hesitant like how the girl before him was at this moment. Of course not. After all, the girl back then had instigated a notably unsophisticated quarrel with him. 

Her calling him a brat still stung. 

“So...I’m guessing that you do know me, huh?” the girl said, tilting her head. “Um, Doffy?” 

Doflamingo reflexively scowled. “Are you serious?” he exclaimed, thoroughly put off by how even this version of the girl had taken to addressing him as such. “Only my family uses that name. Who do you think you are to presume that you can do the same?” 

The girl recoiled, visibly stunned. “Sheesh, okay, then. If you really don’t like me calling you that, then I won’t,” she said, holding her hands up in placation. “I mean, your older self told me to do so, but alright.” 

“I would never! Whether I'd be fifty or six, I would never allow you such a thing!” 

“Seventeen, to be precise.” 

He huffed. “Whatever. Where did you even hear that name? From Rosi?” 

“First of all, you really did tell me to call you Doffy. Secondly, I don’t know who Rosi is.” 

“First of all, no, I did not. Secondly, Rosi is my brother.” 

The girl frowned. “You...are really different compared to your older self.” 

Doflamingo wasn’t sure whether to be offended by that or not. Of course he would be different after six years, but he didn’t know what connotation the girl meant to convey—if she intended on conveying anything at all. He could admit to himself, however, that he tended to get defensive at whatever the girl would say. But, well, that was because she always made herself so unlikeable during the handful of minutes of their annual meetings. It was her fault that he was like this! 

There had been one point where he had considered that perhaps her unlikability had to do with her age. The older she was, the ruder she acted. Perhaps she had been lording her seniority over him. Seniority was often tied to rank, and rank was the big deciding factor as to how much respect an officer received here with the marines. 

Respect had been simply handed to Doflamingo when he had resided in Mariejois because everyone deferred to the Celestial Dragons. But no one here knew about his true heritage. Aside from Garp, that was, but Garp was boorish to his core despite holding the prestigious title of vice admiral. The man “didn’t give a flying shit”—his words, not Doflamingo’s—about whether he was a Celestial Dragon, the prince of the Goa Kingdom, or the devil incarnate. 

As long as Doflamingo was his disciple, Garp would treat him as such, which meant raining down on Doflamingo with his “Fists of Love,” as stupid as the name was. His “Fists of Love” were more like “Grouchy Old Man Punches That Could Actually Cause Internal Bleeding.” Rosinante was also a recipient of these punches even though he didn’t talk back as much as Doflamingo did, but it probably had to do with Garp trying to shape up Rosinante from being a crybaby. 

His mentor’s lack of civility was compounded by how he was placed in an environment where he had to _earn_ respect, and that had been an uncomfortable adjustment. Nevertheless, if he wanted to rise to the top, Doflamingo had to be willing to accept his place. So he gritted his teeth and endured the indignity, pulling himself through the blood, sweat, and tears. Rosinante, on the other hand (and unsurprisingly), had easily accepted this transition. Doflamingo loved his brother, but Rosinante was a damn doormat. 

Where he had come to adapt to the military culture, he had later realized that the girl never had. She never had to. She was a pirate, if that was to be believed. Well, he did believe it—he _had_ to believe it. Otherwise, this whole marine schtick was just a waste of time, and Doflamingo wasn’t one to waste his own time. Anyway, he didn’t know how pirates did things, but he figured that pirates didn’t adhere to the seniority hierarchy that the officers were obsessed about. 

So maybe it hadn’t been about the girl using her age as an excuse to be a pest, but rather her personality. Or maybe the fact that she had become accustomed to him throughout the years of her popping in and out of his life. Whatever the case may be, the girl before him was more compliant. She had agreed to refrain from using his nickname without a fight. 

His mind buzzed with the potentiality of this. Never had Doflamingo encountered the girl in such a way before. How much would she give in to his demands? How much could he push? This wasn’t her first meeting with him, but she obviously was new enough at this that her impression of him was more or less fresh. That was if he hadn’t already cemented an impression for the past few minutes. 

“Tell me what year you were born in,” Doflamingo said. 

“Uhhh.” The girl frowned again. “Why?” 

Why? Wait, she wasn’t supposed to question him! She was supposed to do what she was told to do. What the hell was this? He mirrored her frown. “Just tell me,” he insisted. 

“Yeah, no. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure that revealing too much info would disrupt the time continuity or something.” 

He gaped at her. “You spent ages trying to convince me that you’re on friendly terms with my older self, and yet you’re now reluctant on telling me your birth year?” he sputtered incredulously. 

“I what? Oh, are you talking about my older self?" Curiosity gleamed in her eyes. "How old was I when you last saw her—me?” 

“Why should I tell you when you won’t tell me anything?” he snapped. 

“Um. Why do you want to know?” 

"To kill you, of course!"

"Kill—kill me?" she cried, blanching. "Why do you want to kill me? What did I do?"

"Your existence is a menace to my life!" Doflamingo snarled, the flames of rage and hatred kindling once again. It wasn't difficult to remember the pain and misery that the girl had inflicted upon him, thusly why it wasn't difficult to reignite feelings from the past. "You're a fly that insistently buzzes around my head no matter how many times I try swatting you! No, you're worse that an insect—you're the shit under my shoes! You're a foul thing that keeps clinging onto me no matter how many times I've expressed my hatred towards you! And ever since you ruined my life, I have swore vengeance to destroy you!"

By the time he finished his rant, he was breathing heavily, and he felt a vein throb on the side of his temple. He had been so caught up on his outburst that he hadn't registered what he had said until he found himself staring into the girl's shocked face. 

And then he thought, "Oh no."

Doflamingo hadn't been trained in the art of strategy, and he could concede to the fact that he wasn't the most tactful person, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that divulging his plans to the target was a bad move no matter how confident or capable he was in getting said target. And yet his anger had gotten the best of him, which resulted him to flap his lips mindlessly and revealing everything that he had intended for the girl. It was one thing for her older self to be aware, but it was another thing that her younger self now knew. And what did it mean for him now?

If her older self had always known, then it could be that she had found out about it on this very day. All because of his big mouth. He inwardly cursed at himself for his foolishness, and then at the girl for always triggering his temper. No matter what, she always managed to get under his skin without fail. 

"Y-you're just joking, right?" the girl said, her words coming out in a wheeze. There was a nervous and trembling smile on her face, but the way she looked at him was of incredulity. It was as if she was face to face with a complete stranger, and that was when Doflamingo remembered what she had said about him being different compared to his older self. He remembered the times when her other self had insisted that they would become friends in his future, and the times when she had treated him fondly despite how often he had swore at her. He then understood. 

Oh, so that was how it was. 

Her older incarnations had hardly taken his threats seriously because, to them, he would establish it as a joke. No, not necessarily a joke, but threats that held no real weight. That he was so temperamental at this age that he was merely trying to get back at her like how a child would. That he was all bark and no bite. As much as it irritated him that the girl wouldn't take him seriously, he realized that _this_ could be all part of older self's plan. His supposed affability was simply a ruse to get her to lower her guard, and then he would strike when she would least expect it. Or perhaps he could persuade her into telling him her background. 

He detested the notion of sidling up next to her and pretend to be her friend. He _loathed_ the idea of playing kiss-up, but he had already messed up and he had to remedy it somehow. Looking back at the girl, he was reminded by how easily compliant she was right now. She was easy to manipulate despite being older than him, but Doflamingo was certainly more intelligent. And he knew that if he planted his seeds of deception when she was like this, then he would have her eating off of his hand. 

The very thought was tantalizing enough to push him to do this. 

"Of course I was," Doflamingo said, forcing himself to look and sound calm. He made a show of sighing in embarrassment. "I apologize. I have always been a hotheaded child and I'm still growing out of it. I hope that you'll forgive me."

And, just like that, the girl's shoulders dropped as she breathed out in audible relief. "No, no! It's fine. Your older self did warn me about this, so I should have seen it coming," she said with a chuckle. 

For a Celestial Dragon like himself to go as far as to apologize and to play niceties—to dismiss his _pride_ —to a peasant grated his nerves, but Doflamingo had enough restraint conceal his true feelings. He had to think of this as another long term goal. If he could tolerate being that dimwit Garp's underling, then he could surely tolerate this. In the end, it would be all worth it.

He wasn't ready to smile at her, so he settled for a neutral expression. The girl didn't seem to mind. "Would you like some tea?" he offered. He didn't know how long the girl would stick around, but he might as well act as her host for the time being. He needed to show her that he was just a boy growing out of an angry phase and not a boy who was plotting her demise. 

The girl smiled. "Yeah! I'd like that."

* * *

When Doflamingo was twelve, Rosinante was being transferred over to the marine headquarters where the fleet admiral was stationed at. Apparently, Fleet Admiral Sengoku had taken an interest in Rosinante and wanted to make him his own disciple. Doflamingo was _pissed._

He had always expected Rosinante to excel at anything—he was a Donquixote and his younger brother, after all—but he never had expected him to shine brighter than him. He was the older brother, therefore the better one! And Rosinante wouldn't be in this position had it not been for him, so what gave him the right to train under the commander of the forces, the elite of the elite, Garp's _superior_? If Rosinante became Sengoku's disciple, then did that make Rosinante Doflamingo's superior? Doflamingo glowered darkly at the thought.

Doflamingo was busy executing blows at the punching bag when— _pop_! _—_ company arrived.

He knew that he seldom ever met the girl with a pleasant mien, but he really wasn't in the mood to deal with her right now. He sighed. He had to, though. He drew his shoulders back and carefully smoothed out his expression, focusing on the plan that he had made last year. Restraint, he told himself; he needed restraint. Think about reaching that goal; think about fulfilling that vow. Don't lash out. Don't yell. Don't argue. 

Doflamingo quietly inhaled before turning around. And then froze. 

Lying before him was a lifeless body.

Just like that, the bitterness that he had been containing—towards his brother, towards the girl—evaporated. He stared at the prone figure with wide eyes, unable to register what the hell was happening. He couldn't hear anything aside from his rapidly beating heart. It was as if time was moving at a snail's pace as his brain sluggishly pieced together who this person was. It was the girl. 

Doflamingo drew in a sharp breath as he stumbled backwards and fell onto his rear, horrified. This was nothing like before when she had shown up injured. Two years ago, she had been dressed in bandages and bore bruises, but she had been mostly fine; she must have had been if she could run around him in circles. But she wasn't running now. She wasn't even greeting him with her usual stupid smiles and audaciously referring him by his nickname. She was motionless. 

Blood sluggishly seeped out of her cuts, and her skin was littered with scratches and bruises—more than what she had back then. It was as if she was wearing another layer of skin with how discolored she was. 

As if electrocuted, Doflamingo leapt onto his feet and ran. He knelt down and scooped the girl up into his arms, startled to find that she was light enough for him to carry with relative ease. After all this time of knowing her, she had always been the bigger and taller of the two. He quickly dismissed the thought. Now wasn't the time to ponder over these things.

He placed her down across a bench, and then, with a shaking hand, he pressed two fingers on the underside of her jawline. There, he felt it—her pulse. Doflamingo released a breath that he didn't know that he had been holding in. The girl was still alive.

"D-Doffy...?"

The girl blearily peered at him, one of her eyes swollen shut. 

"You—" Doflamingo began, but he stopped. He didn't know what to say. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, closing her good eye. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Scare me? Ridiculous. How is this supposed to scare me?" he scoffed, although it sounded like a wheeze in his ears. He cleared his throat. "What—what happened?"

"Was defendin' the money for ship repairs, but some asshole took it anyway," she said. There was an undercurrent of anguish in her tone, but Doflamingo got just enough by the way she choked out her words. It was like her tears were clogged in her throat.

He felt his insides twist by some unrecognized emotion because of it. Was it because he had never seen the girl like this before? He had thought that seeing her nervous and shy would have been the biggest surprise the she had to offer, but seeing her sorrowful? That was... That was unsettling. He didn't know why it was unsettling aside from the fact that it was. 

The girl tilted her face away so that he couldn't see her, but he caught a glimpse of tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. She emitted a soft keening noise that he didn't know was due to the pain, sadness, or both. Doflamingo simply stood over her, completely at a lost. What was he supposed to do? Should he do something?

Whenever he and Rosinante would be upset, Mother would gather them to her chest and cradle them gently. Back then when he had found out that Mother had been on her way to recovery, the girl had done something similar by hugging him. Being tucked close like that gave a sense of security, whether the holder be his mother or the girl. Knowing what consoled him nearly made him stretch out his arms to pull her into his chest, yet he pulled himself back before he could touch her. 

Why...would he bother consoling her? Why would he do something pointless? Why use his hands to bring comfort when it would be his hands that would end her life? For that matter, why did he check up on her to see if she was still alive?

Doflamingo clenched his fists. Was he having second thoughts?

No, that couldn't be it. Seeing the girl like this was just a shock to his system; that explained why he had done those things, why he had felt the way he had. Yes, that made more sense. He didn't truly care about her well-being; what he cared about was how someone else had rendered the girl to this state. Someone had gotten to the girl before he did. Now _that_ was unsettling. 

"Who did this to you?" he asked, frowning. 

The girl didn't answer. She only sniffled. 

"Peasant, I asked you a question. Why did this to you?"

"Doffy," she rasped, voice strained to stifle another sob, "please don't."

"Someone hurt you. I must know who this person is so that I can get back at him," he insisted with an impatient growl. He needed to eliminate the problem before the problem returned. "But I can't do that if you don't tell me anything."

"No," she insisted back. She lolled her head to the other side so that she was facing him again. Her good eye was glistened wetly as it pierced into his own pair. "It's not somethin' to drag you into. It's my fault that I lost, so I gotta deal with it myself."

He wanted to protest and pick at the flaws of her argument, but he found that he couldn't do it.

Finding out about the fleet admiral's interest in his brother over him and the girl nearly being killed by someone else... Doflamingo didn't care enough to press on. He didn't have the strength to, which was why he relented. He was still mad about everything, though, and that somehow kept him lingering next to her.

He gave a disgruntled huff, plopped down, and rested his chin on the space alongside the girl's arm. He was emotionally drained enough to not give a crap about the voluntary proximity. "So," he began, "you have a ship?"

"Imma pirate," she hiccupped. "Of course I do."

"And the money was for repairs?"

"Our ship's gone through a lot, but she's still good to go on. We—we just need to fix her up a bit and she'll be like brand new."

"The person who did this to you—was he the one who stole your money?"

"Yeah." The girl sniffled again. "The bastard. My crewmates are gonna give him hell."

Doflamingo couldn't help but snort at that. "Are they strong?"

"The strongest."

Doflamingo didn't keep track how long they had been talking, but, before he knew it— _pop_!—the girl had vanished like how she always had. He sat up straight and blankly stared at the spot where she had previously occupied. Her blood was smeared on the wooden surface.

"Leaving a mess as usual," Doflamingo grunted. He rose to fetch a towel to clean up. If any of the upper ranks found out about the stain, they would smoke all the novices for it disregarding who hadn't been in the gym at the time. And as much as Doflamingo was entertained by the idea of people receiving unjust suffering, he would be one of the many recipients, and he wasn't entertained by that. He uncapped his bottle and dampened the towel, and then returned to the bench. 

As he scrubbed away the stain, he wondered what exactly the girl went through for her to describe her adventures as "a lot," given that her ship had been in need of repairs. Perhaps not a whole lot, and perhaps nothing much, but he couldn't help but get the feeling that the girl had been sincere. Although, maybe he had unwittingly felt bad for her condition and gave her the benefit of doubt as pittance. Doflamingo rubbed his forehead. 

Next year, he would ask her about it. That was, if she would turn up as a pirate again. 

* * *

When Doflamingo was thirteen, the girl didn't show up. 


	3. 15, 16, 17, 18

When Doflamingo was fifteen, he saw the girl for the first time since the three years of her absence.

The first thing that he registered was incredulity.

The second thing that he registered was rage.

The third thing that he registered was how he was now taller than her. 

"Holy moly, kid. What have they been feeding you in the marines?"

The rage returned. 

"Where have you been?" he snapped, shooting up onto his feet from his seat.

The girl blinked. "Huh?"

"Don't 'huh' me! Do you realize how long you've been gone for?"

"I..." The girl frowned as she haltingly appraised him. "Um, I don't think I understand. Do you mean the last time that I saw you or the last time that you saw me?"

Doflamingo opened his mouth, ready to shout, ready to give her a piece of his mind, when the words tapered off when her question echoed back to him in his head. The girl peered up at him with confusion, and his anger marginally simmered. 

Now calmer, Doflamingo took stock of the girl's appearance. She was older than how she had been the last time he had seen her; in fact, the long but not-too-long length of her hair, the noticeable muscle definition of her physique, and her clothes reminded him of the time when they had been in Father's office. The memory was almost a decade old, and yet it featured in his mind clearly as though it had happened only yesterday. 

Doflamingo had yet to make sense as to why these moments that he had spent with his mysterious visitor would never fade into obscurity as the years passed by. It was as though he had taken snapshots and had secured the pictures to eternally maintain their pristine condition. He could vividly detail every action and every thought that had taken place when he had met her as a child, and yet he couldn't recall how his birthday parties had been like before moving out of Mariejois.

He couldn't recall the first pet that his parents had gifted him. He couldn't recall the first time that Mother had chided him despite feeling the imprints of shame that had been tied to that incident. He could vaguely make out the time when his family had spent cavorting along the plains of Foosha Village while he had stood in the background, glaring at the people with disdain.

Even the jealousy that he had embarrassingly harbored towards his brother had been nothing but a distant thing. In fact, Doflamingo could scarcely remember how the jealousy had felt. 

But he remembered the horror and incredulity that had come upon seeing the girl's broken and bloody body. He remembered the frustration kindling within in when learning that someone had hurt her—that was, before he could have gotten to her. Doflamingo...also remembered just how startling it had been when seeing her so sad; she had been unlike her usual cheerful self that he had found it unsettling. 

Now, seeing her healthy and well, something within him stirred, and not in an unpleasant way.

The last time Doflamingo had seen her, the girl had looked like she had been halfway towards death's door. She had been younger than some of her previous selves, younger than the one who stood before him, but that had been the last time he had seen her, and she hadn't returned for _three years_. It hadn't been difficult to assume that the girl had ended up dying to explain her disappearance. But she was _here_ , obviously having survived despite her injuries. 

Doflamingo clenched his fists, unsure exactly what to feel anymore. "Never mind."

"Never mind?" The girl tilted her head. "Are you sure that you don't want to tell me?"

"I said never mind!" He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but his voice ended up being that way. Yet, to his relief, the girl didn't seem too bothered by it, instead electing to pout in response. 

"Sheesh, you're just as prickly as the last time that I've seen you," she said. "And here I thought that joining the marines would have matured you."

He quickly gathered what modicum of composure he had left and smoothed out his expression. "As if you're one to talk about maturity," he sneered. "For all the times that I've known you, you're like an idiot who refuses to grow up."

"Nuh-uh!"

Unable to resist, Doflamingo ruthlessly poked her forehead, causing her to stumble backward and squawk in offense. "The fact that I'm getting taller while you remain the same height is basically a sign."

"That your size is changing to accommodate your growing prickliness?" the girl groused, nursing her head.

"That you'll always be a kid no matter how old you get."

"You say such terrible things to your elder. I bet that you're only this way to me."

"Naturally. I have to be courteous to my superiors, after all, which you blatantly aren't." He rolled his eyes. "And, besides, how do I know if you're really my elder? For all I know, you could actually be decades younger than me." While he said that in a show of jest, he wanted to see if he could bait her into revealing her birth year. 

Of course, that didn't work. The girl fixed him a flat stare. "You're ten years too young if you think that you can try that one on me."

Doflamingo returned her stare. "I don't want to hear that from someone like you."

"Too cruel!" She thrust a finger at him. "After all this time that we've known each other, you're too cruel at this age!"

Just like that, it had been as though the earlier traces of rage and agitation had been extinguished. A certain weight had been lifted from his shoulders, leaving him oddly buoyant. Doflamingo, from his surpassing height, looked down at the girl who dragged on her theatrical displays of dismay. She then flipped the switch by smiling brightly at him and offhandedly commenting on his appearance again, and he responded by ridiculing her. 

He watched as the girl pranced around in his room, pointing aloud how this room was different from his previous one. He indulged her inquiries of how his training was going, how Rosi was doing under Fleet Admiral Sengoku's command, and if he was keeping contact with his parents. In return, the girl prattled about her own training, adeptly keeping it ambiguous enough to make it impossible to discern what kind of fighter she was.

As always, she spoke nonsensically; however, instead of being annoyed by this, Doflamingo found himself resigned. Or perhaps...he was actually a bit humored by it. How could someone who was nearly an adult still be so puerile, he didn't know. But such a person did exist, and she was right here with him. 

When she finally popped out of existence, Doflamingo sat down on his bed. Like a punch to the gut, a sigh flooded past his lips. He blankly stared into space, riding out the high tide of emotion that usually came when dealing with the girl. Weariness sank into his bones, making him wonder if this was what it felt like to be an old man. Doflamingo sighed again and flopped backward onto the mattress, feeling the cheap springs dig into his shoulder blades. 

Three years had gone by, but the moment the girl had reentered his life, it had been as though those three years hadn't existed. Their interactions had run without any bumps or twists, no awkward pauses or stiff moments. There had been exasperation from time to time whenever she had acted up, albeit the feeling had been more muted than usual. It had been...normal. As normal as they could be given their recent interactions.

But...that didn't mean that his original objective had popped up in the forefront of his mind. He had been so wrapped up in the girl's presence that he had actually forgotten about it. And the strangest of all was that he wasn't even upset by it. 

This sensation... This lightness in his chest... What was it? Doflamingo unconsciously brought a hand over his heart and curled his fingers into his shirt. 

* * *

When Doflamingo was sixteen, the first thing that the girl did was kick him on the shin.

"Ow! Shit!" He hobbled backward and kept her at a distance by propping a hand on her forehead. "What the hell?"

"That's what I wanna know!" she spat out. Her arms spun in rapid circles with her fingers curled, making an attempt to claw him despite her disadvantage. She bared her teeth, and Doflamingo pushed her further away in fear that she might try to bite him. The girl had ways of surprising him, but the least that he had expected was for her to suddenly show up as a rabid animal.

"Seriously, what the hell?" he repeated.

"You kicked me!" She finally stopped her assault only to present her leg to him. "Look at the damage that you've done!" Indeed, there was a mottled discoloration marring her skin, and that was when memories of nine years ago came flooding back. His eyes widened behind his sunglasses when he realized what the girl was angry about, and he threw his head back and laughed,

"It's not funny," she fumed. "You're bratty self really hurt me, you know!"

"Oh, _so_ sorry," Doflamingo snorted between chuckles, pressing his hand against his lips. "How—how unfortunate."

"You said that it's because I'm an ugly hag!"

Another bout of laughter ripped out of him. Seeing the girl's increased displeasure only increased his amusement. Even with the threat of her clawing and biting, Doflamingo couldn't help but surrender to his delight. He had never seen her so affronted—genuinely, at that, not those feigned displays that she had done to indulge him. It was especially hilarious when she had recounted his seven-year-old self's reason to kick her with such open devastation.

"Alright, alright. Calm down," he said, shoving her away. The girl released a low hissing sound. "I was just a kid back then. Are you really going to take it out on me now?"

"Hmph." She crossed her arms and squinted. She then smirked. "I just did," she said, glancing at his shin.

The amusement shifted to irritation. He flicked her forehead.

"Argh!"

"There. We're even."

"No, we're not!" the girl denied hotly. "We were even before! Now you unbalanced the scale again!"

Well, he couldn't deny that, and it wasn't as though her kick did much of anything. With her scrawny build and bony limbs, she was hardly strong enough to inflict any real harm. The pain had been comparable to a pinch, admittedly. If anything, Doflamingo had just...reacted. He really shouldn't have been bothered by it. How embarrassing.

Maybe the flick had been a step too far, seeing the red spot blossoming between her brows, but whatever. What was done was done. Also, could this be a form of revenge? Doflamingo waited for that vindictive pleasure to settle in, but he felt nothing. Maybe it wasn't satisfying knowing that he was teasing a girl who had yet done anything to him?

He stared down at her. She was much smaller than before—or, rather, he had grown taller. It was almost a little disorienting to know that he now towered over her by two feet, especially when he only had a couple of inches on her last year. His squadron did comment on his burgeoning growth spurt, but seeing the notable difference in height between him and the girl really cemented that fact. 

"Say, how old are you?" he asked her curiously.

She blinked, no doubt surprised by the change of topic, but adapted to it easily. "Sixteen. You?"

"Sixteen as well."

Interesting. This was the first time that they were the same age. It was also weird. It was like how the girl had always been taller than him, she had always been older than him. The difference between those two, though, was that he had known that his change in appearance was inevitable; meanwhile, he had always been under the impression that the girl would remain as his elder. 

She had always been one step ahead of him in some way. She knew things that he didn't know, and she knew things about himself that he had yet to reveal. Yet it didn't escape his notice that the girl had never been older or younger than a certain age range. It was as though she was going to be forever young while he slowly grew older and older. 

He contemplated whether the girl was going to stay this way for as long as he got to see her. Did that mean that he would bypass her in age? Doflamingo wasn't sure what to feel about that. It was definitely bizarre, though.

The girl cocked her head to the side. "Sixteen, huh? The last time that I saw you, you were a squirt."

He huffed at that. "Yeah? Well, look who's the squirt now."

"Only because you shot up like a weed," he heard her mutter to herself. Despite himself, Doflamingo smirked. Oho, what was this? Was the girl not used to insulting him to his face yet? And to think that she had done such a good job of doing that when he had been seven. 

He wanted to tease her a bit for that, but before he got the chance to do so, the girl pulled her attention away from him to survey the area. Her gaze swept across the large expanse of the harbor to the enormous white structure that stood behind them. Her eyes then drifted to the docking station where Garp's battle vessel was parked. Beyond that were sailors milling about, fulfilling their tasks with idleness since they didn't have their superior harping at them.

The girl looked back at the building, her face blank in her incomprehension.

"Is that what I think it is?" 

Doflamingo raised an eyebrow. "You mean the marine headquarters? If so, then yeah."

"Oh." She paused. "Wait." Her eyes widened. "What?" she shrieked.

"What?"

"The—the—the _marine headquarters_?" The girl stared at him in bewilderment, which in turn caused him to be bewildered himself. "What the—what the hell are you doing here?" she cried out, visibly alarmed. 

He stared at her. "My commanding officer has business here," he told her slowly.

Her mouth went agape. "You're a marine?"

"You didn't know?"

"No!"

Doflamingo frowned in confusion. "But this isn't the first time you've met me, not including the kid version of me. How did you not know?"

"Y-you never told me," she stammered, backing away. "And it's not like you ever wore your uniform, like how you're not wearing one right now!"

He reflexively looked down, taking in the sweats and white shirt that he had thrown on. He was in his workout clothes since Garp planned on training him after his meeting. He looked back at the girl. "What do I normally wear?"

"Not a uniform, that's for sure!" She trembled like a rabbit that was about to be eaten by a predator, and, with the way she was eyeing him, Doflamingo was that predator. This caused him to frown again.

"Why're you so scared?"

"How can I not be? You're a marine!"

"Yeah, and you're not a pirate." At least, he didn't think that she was one at this age. She certainly didn't look like one. "That means that you don't have to be scared of me."

Immediately, her panic subsided, only to be replaced by a shoddy patchwork of bravado. Her smile stretched too widely across her face to be genuine. "Ha! Me? Not a pirate? Don't be silly! I am Captain—" She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I mean... I'm a captain!" she quickly remedied. 

"Oh?"

"Wh-why are you smiling like that?"

"I'm not smiling," he said, smiling.

"Stop it!" she cried.

"So, you're a captain?" he probed.

"I'm not telling you anything!" But then she added, "B-but, yeah, that's right! I am a captain!"

Promptly, disappointment filled him. "Oh, you're lying."

"What? No, I'm not!"

"Your older selves are better liars than you are, and even then I can tell whenever they're lying."

He should have known better. The way she was now, he had already figured that she couldn't have had joined a pirate crew much less form one. However, in a bout of excitement, he had forgotten about that and had foolishly believed that he had learned a significant detail about the girl. In reality, she had been bluffing. 

Was the girl even capable of being a captain? Doflamingo wondered about this. When the girl had appeared to him four years ago, she had said that she had been beaten up for protecting her ship. But just because she had been overpowered didn't necessarily mean that she couldn't have had been a captain. He had encountered men and women who had become leaders for their intellect while their subordinates had loaned them their strength. 

Although, did that even work for pirates? Doflamingo imagined that ruffians of the sea would only fall in line when their captain happened to be stronger than them. Pirates only knew how to function in the most basic of systems, after all. And, what was more, it was difficult to picture the girl in any position of power. She was just too much of a baby to handle that kind of responsibility. 

Doflamingo thought that it would be funny to tell her that, so he did. As predicted, the girl was indignant. 

Forgetting about her previous fright about him being a marine, the girl launched at him with a ridiculous battle cry. Fortunately, they were quite a distance away from the other officers, so no one paid mind to their noisy one-sided battle. Doflamingo spent the whole time tripping up the furious girl while releasing a peal of belly-aching laughter. Even after she popped out of existence, he continued to laugh.

His good mood was bolstered when Garp had informed him that he skipped three ranks to become a seaman first class.

"Pretty astounding for a kid who just officially joined," Garp grunted, "but don't let it get to your head, brat."

Doflamingo smirked. It shouldn't take long for him to jump ahead to master chief petty officer.

* * *

When Doflamingo was seventeen, Gold Roger's execution had been concluded. 

It had been...anticlimactic. At least, to him, it had been. To the people around him, it had been as though the world had been flipped upside down. All kinds of tears had been shed, he had noticed—anguish, likely coming from pirates who had looked up to him, and relief, mostly expressed by the civilians. However, the cries of gaiety had been the most overwhelming force, and it resounded even hours after the Pirate King's death.

The noisy celebration persisted into the night, keeping Loguetown awake. Even the marines, who were supposed to maintain their professionalism, couldn't escape the merriment. Doflamingo's squadron drank to a stupor, and they sang and danced without a care out on the deck. Evil had been purged from this earth, as they had said, so they had every reason to let loose and party. 

Doflamingo, however, couldn't bring himself to feel the same way. Not that he didn't understand why everyone was behaving the way they were. The Pirate King was finally dead, after all; the marines had successfully captured and ended his dreadful existence, and the devil of the Four Blue Seas was no more. But while Gold Roger had served to be the marines' bedtime monster, Doflamingo had a more neutral stance regarding him. 

Perhaps it was because he had been lukewarm in his pledge to the marine code of honor and justice, concepts that they had tried to instill in him. Not that they knew that their indoctrination failed. It wasn't difficult expressing his contempt for pirates, but that didn't mean that he was genuine about it either—not in the way that the marines would have wanted him to be. Upholding the law, defending the weak, fighting against criminals—all platitudes that no one actually abided by and a bunch of crap that he hardly cared about.

(Not like Rosi, who ate it all up and was on his way of becoming the marine poster boy. Must be why Sengoku had been taken a shine to him.)

So, no, Doflamingo had never felt scared of or threatened by the existence of the Pirate King; as a result, he hadn't cared much about what would happen to that man. Whether he would live or die, as long as he didn't serve as an obstruction in his path to the top, Doflamingo hadn't cared. Nevertheless, for a grandiose event, he had expected to feel _something_. A little excitement, at least. But, no, he had felt nothing. How disappointing.

The inebriated guffaws echoed behind him as he languidly sprung off the rails and landed on the dock. Distantly, one of the men call out his name, but Doflamingo ignored it and headed towards the boardwalk. 

He found the ship to be too stuffy to stick around, and the noisiness exacerbated his headache. But if it was the noisiness that he wanted to escape from, then he was out of luck. It was loud everywhere. He grumbled to himself. He wasn't one to pull away from parties; in fact, he would be the one to challenge his crewmates to a drinking contest just to see them flounder at how they were bested by a teenager. Today, though, was a day where he just wasn't in the mood. 

And then he heard the all too familiar " _pop_!" behind him.

"Hmph. I was wondering when you'd show—" Doflamingo, upon turning around, cut himself short when he saw her. 

Skinny, tiny, lanky, awkward—those were the words that promptly surfaced in his mind when looking at her. Without meaning to, he drew a comparison between her and a fawn. The way her large eyes bore into him as she stood frozen in place, the comparison was fitting. 

She was young. Compared to all of her other incarnations, this was the youngest she had ever been. She couldn't have been more than fourteen. Possibly thirteen. With certainty, he could say that she was younger than her fifteen-year-old self. This was the first time Doflamingo was ever older than the girl. 

Tension rolled off of her in waves. She was quiet and trembling. It was strange, but the nervousness of her countenance wasn't the only thing that threw him off. It was how she was so obviously new at this. Where all her previous selves had seamlessly adjusted to the shift in her surroundings, the girl was acting as though she had no idea what was going on.

How...many times did she pop in like this at this age?

Finally, she spoke.

"Are you..." she began nervously and swiped her lips with her tongue. Her eyes darted off to the side before settling back onto his face. "Are you, um, Doflamingo?"

"Doflamingo?" he repeated blankly. 

"Ah!" she yelped, withdrawing into herself by hunching her shoulders. "You aren't?"

"No, I am," he quickly said, baffled. "It's just that you..." he trailed off, not knowing what to say. Then, dumbly, he asked, "You're not going to call me Doffy?"

"Doffy?" She owlishly blinked. "Why would I?"

He stared.

"A-ah. This—this is the second time that I've met you, the first being when I was eight," she stammered, lowering her gaze self-consciously. "But, um, it's been a while, so..."

Doflamingo was mind-blown. This was her _second_ encounter with him? And her first had been when she had been _eight_?

He had no idea how to proceed from here.

His mind whirred with the multiple possibilities that could take place. From this single interaction, his choice could impact everything. The girl was impressionable. Unlike her fifteen-year-old-self, the girl didn't really know him whatsoever. Yes, there was the instance where she had already met him, but that had taken place when she had been eight. That hardly counted. This moment here was the real game changer. 

He could ask for her birth year, her location, her _name_. He could ask her everything that he wanted to know about her and find a way to trace it back to where she was—had been—would be. He could finally find her without the girl popping out of existence and slipping out of his grasp. He could finally _finish_ her. 

The exhilaration at the opportunity, however, never came. 

Come to think about it, Doflamingo had several chances of striking her down last year. Clearly, he had been stronger than her at the time, so he could have easily done it. He could have outrun her and outsmarted her. She hadn't even been a pirate yet; she had been a mere civilian while he had six years of marine training. It hadn't been like before where she had always been out of his reach. Granted, he hadn't thought about taking her down when she had appeared, but...

No, Doflamingo hadn't done such a thing because he hadn't wanted to. 

And right now, he didn't want to ask her all those things. He didn't want to ask her about her birth year, location, and name. Even as she was right now, standing before him in this enfeebled state, he couldn't bring himself to end it once and for all. This one golden opportunity to do _something_ , only to slip by just because he didn't want to do it. Doflamingo didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

And then he realized something. It was because of this disinclination that allowed the girl to continue popping in and out throughout his life. He must have felt the same way when the girl appeared to him as a child as well. Was it the dissatisfaction of finishing the job without a proper fight? 

He reflected back to when he had been nine; he had been driven by his anger and hatred that he had resolved in becoming a marine. When he had been ten, he had fantasized a day when he would reign victorious over the girl. When he had been eleven, he had pieced together a plan to lower her guard in the long term. At that time, he had believed that his older self—his seventeen-year-old self—had designed a ruse to gain her trust so that she could be taken advantage of. 

But now that he was seventeen, Doflamingo found himself not what he had expected himself to be. Where did that anger and hatred go? Where was his motivation?

Also, did it really matter, anyway?

No matter what he would choose to do, the results wouldn't change. Her future selves would meet his past selves, and his future selves would meet her past selves. If he were to attack here right here and now, she would end up surviving because she still had a future ahead of her. Just like how she had survived from her injuries all those years ago.

Doflamingo felt as though he had been knocked over by a strong wind. Just how long was this going to continue? Him seeing the girl dropping in before him, and him chasing after her with nothing but a child's promise to push him forward. He was still determined to climb the ranks—that hadn't changed, but was he still determined to kill her? He was suddenly standing on the edge, peering at a black hole of uncertainty. 

"So," the girl tried again, "I'm pretty new at this. Um, your older self said that I could ask you for help? D-Doflamingo?"

"You know what?" he said, smiling a smile that he did not feel, feeling inexplicably detached. "Just call me Doffy. You do that all the time."

She blinked. "I do?" Her expression then lit up with understanding. "Oh, you mean when I get to see you again. Um, I guess that means there are times when we meet when I'm older than you?"

"That's right. As of right now, this is the first time that I've ever been older than you."

"Wow, really? This is obvious, but I never been older than you before!" Her previous timidity waned, now replaced by emboldened curiosity. "How old are you now? I'm fourteen."

"Seventeen."

"Well, Doflam—oh, I mean, Doffy. It's nice to meet you again. I'm—"

At that moment, time seemed to freeze for Doflamingo. The second before the girl could even begin to form the first syllable of her name, memories flashed in his mind like a montage. All of their encounters from ten years ago to now—ten years!—unraveled, showing him everything that had happened in his lifetime with her. He relived the anger and hatred and motivation, and relived the moment where his purpose was beginning to lose its meaning. 

That had happened...in the duration of her disappearance. The three-year gap that he had spent without once seeing her. 

Oh, so that was it. He had faltered because he hadn't seen the source of his drive. And without his drive, he had been hesitant to make a move. Hesitation made Doflamingo half-ass anything, and _this_ wasn't something that he wanted to half-ass at, hence why he didn't kill her where she stood. Why she continued to live another day. So, _that_ was it. 

Unlike with Gold Roger's execution, Doflamingo felt cathartic. 

Before the girl could tell him her name, he interrupted her.

"I'll learn your name when we meet for real. In our timeline."

The girl blinked again. "Huh? Are you sure? I know your name, so shouldn't you know mine?"

Doflamingo smiled. "Someday, I will. Now, come on, let's take a walk. There's a lot I need to talk to you about."

During the whole time, he ignored the odd feeling tightening in his chest.

* * *

When Doflamingo was eighteen, the girl didn't show up. 

He sighed. "Here we go again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter of many firsts.


	4. 23, 24

When Doflamingo was twenty-three, he had already been instated as a commodore for a few months. He had become well-established within the ranks, acknowledged and admired for his prowess in leadership and in the battlefield. His men revered him, and the pirates feared him. His name—the Heavenly Demon—was spread wide across the Four Blue Seas, and there was hardly anyone who didn't know who he was. 

Doflamingo had to insert "hardly" to include that minuscule margin that there indeed were people who didn't know him. Namely, the girl. If she belonged to a time that didn't precede his own, that was. 

There was also the fact that Kizaru geezer kept blanking out on his name whenever they would meet, but Doflamingo was ninety percent certain that the bastard was just messing with him. The ten percent uncertainty had to do with the admiral probably being high as a kite whenever he would venture out in public.

(Yes, Doflamingo suspected that his superior was getting off on drugs. How the man would mask the smell, he didn't know yet.)

The blatant disrespect and drug usage theories aside, Doflamingo had made himself comfortable in the big leagues. He certainly wasn't prominent enough to be rubbing elbows with the top of the top, but his relatively quick climb to the fifth highest position had certainly made it an inevitability in everyone's eyes that he would soon. 

As Doflamingo would proudly don his white suit and jacket, maintaining a refined appearance befitting of a man of his status, Rosinante would wear his lieutenant garb as though he was a little boy fumbling with his necktie. Doflamingo would always click his tongue in disapproval whenever he would see his brother's attire fitting him poorly.

"Honestly, it's like you don't even care how you look," Doflamingo harrumphed, adjusting Rosinante's collar. "Didn't Sengoku teach you anything besides charging through walls?" 

Rosinante beamed. "Isn't that what I have you for, Brother?"

"Am I to assume that you retain your slovenliness until our quarterly reunion?" he scoffed before gently knocking his knuckle on Rosinante's tousled hair. Of course, he was exaggerating just how much of a mess Rosinante was. If his younger brother actually went around looking as unkempt as Garp's bedraggled chore boys, then Doflamingo might have to disown him. On the principle of him not properly carrying himself as a Donquixote, naturally.

"Only for you to have you fuss over me," Rosinante replied cheekily. 

Doflamingo rolled his eyes behind his shades. "Don't think that you're being cute, you menace," he said despite the smile worming across his face. He slung an arm around Rosinante's shoulders and pulled him along down the corridor. "So, what's new with you?"

Every three months or so, Doflamingo and Rosinante would get to see each other whenever they would convene at a base for the standard apprising. Sometimes, their respective crews would be designated to the same operation, allowing them to fight together side by side when given the opportunity. 

Doflamingo would be lying if he said that he hadn't been surprised by how much Rosinante had grown. He always had faith that the younger Donquixote would achieve greatness. However, the strides that Rosinante had taken when he was still so young had been unexpected, pleasantly so. 

Doflamingo admittedly had his concerns about how his crybaby of a brother would handle their separation. Being the apprentice of Sengoku was one thing; at that time, Rosinante had been stationed at one place where Garp's ship would periodically make its return. But with Rosinante transitioning from training in the headquarters to being under Vice Admiral Gion's command, there was no guarantee that they could continue these reunions. 

So far in the year since Rosinante had risen to his current rank, nothing of great importance had occurred, but Doflamingo wasn't going to allow himself to fall at ease with their steady routine, unlike Rosinante. 

Nevertheless, he was always delighted to see his brother, especially when making note of his growth. From a whimpering, shy child who had hidden behind their mother's skirts to a man capable of holding his own battles, Doflamingo couldn't be any prouder. 

Quite a shame, though, that Rosinante had to be the user of a very useless Devil Fruit power. 

"I can't say that there's been anything out of the ordinary since our last meeting," Rosinante said wryly. "Nothing like your colorful adventures."

His tone wasn't quite disdainful, but it wasn't approving either. Doflamingo mood was too good to be dampened by Rosinante's not-so-subtle chiding, though, so he decided to let that one go. "Is that old broad making you do the paperwork again?"

"Brother, I told you not to refer her as such!"

"It wouldn't be such a problem if you weren't a pushover," Doflamingo carried on, ignoring Rosinante's mortification. "It's partly the reason why Sengoku did the same to you."

"This again? I don't know what else to say to convince you that he didn't make me into his personal pencil pusher," Rosinante groaned. "I mean, I can fight, can't I?"

"You can do better, Rosi. I don't know why you're holding back your potential. At least Garp pushed me until I reached mine."

"Well, I think that's where we differ. Where I'm very much a normal human being, you're a megalomaniac.

Doflamingo pushed his brother's head down for that, earning an "ack!" out of him. 

"What, am I wrong?" Rosinante laughed, swatting his hand away.

"You're confusing that for ambitious, you little shit."

"Same difference." Rosinante bounced away to dodge Doflamingo's swing. "Oh, come on, you have to admit, your _ambition_ is like no other. It's as if you're trying to become an admiral before your thirties." He then narrowed his eyes. "You haven't...caught a chronic illness, have you?"

This time, it was Doflamingo's turn to laugh. "How like you to assume the worst. Can't I just want to be the best out of the best as soon as possible?"

"Yeah, sure, but the way you're going at it looks as though you're trying to accomplish your bucket list before you actually kick the bucket."

Doflamingo laughed again. "Chronic illness or not, nothing can hold me down—"

_Pop!_

Doflamingo's blood ran cold.

Simultaneously, reflexively, the brothers turned around. 

Standing before them was _the girl_. After five years, she appeared again, like a ghost that he had thought to long banish, only to haunt him once more. And possibly at the worst time yet. 

Never had she had shown up when there were others within proximity. Doflamingo's mind immediately whirled with questions: Why here? Why now? Why, after all these years, did she have to appear like this? And why did she have to do it in front of Rosinante? Throughout the years of the girl popping in and out of his life, never had she done so when he was within proximity of another person. She had always done it when he was alone, so...why?

Doflamingo didn't have the time to stop and shelve his questions for later, realizing that now wasn't the time to stand around like an idiot, when the girl gaped at him and blurted out, "You—you really are a marine!"

Shit, he thought. _Shit_.

Doflamingo didn't quite understand why this was a _shit_ situation. Was there any detriment in allowing his brother to know? Maybe, maybe not. Silly that he hadn't put much thought into the idea of having Rosinante on the know, yet, at the same time, it didn't seem relevant. What use was there? And, for that matter, when the girl hadn't popped in after the three-year mark, he had made the assumption that her time shenanigans had been put to an end. Clearly, he had been mistaken. 

Nonetheless, there was a gnawing part of him that didn't want anyone to know about the girl. At least, not so much outside of what damage control Doflamingo could wrangle. It was already too late now, the girl being exposed to Rosinante this way. 

So, Doflamingo did what he could do: bullshitting. "Yes, I know, I cut an impressive figure," he drawled, putting his hands on his waist, shooting her a smirk. "Are you in awe?"

The girl's brows furrowed. She opened her mouth to respond until her gaze landed on Rosinante. She stiffened. 

"Doffy, who...?" Rosinante trailed off, visibly perplexed.

"Just another stray who I picked up along the way," he dismissed. "Don't worry about it."

"Wha—seriously, Doffy? Again?" Rosinante frowned in exasperation. "You can't keep doing this. The marine life is too dangerous to be housing children, you know!"

"I told you, they keep running back to me. It's not my fault that I'm so charming that they can't keep away," he countered lightly. "Like this squirt. Ha, following me all the way here." He sauntered towards the girl, maintaining his composure despite the astonishment that he felt when nearing her. He had grown, he knew, but it seemed as though she had shrunk. Alarmingly more so compared to five years ago. 

His stomach did flips when he had to lean down to place a hand on her head. The girl made an affronted grunt, but she didn't shake him off. Smart girl, he thought; she caught on fast.

"We-eeell," she said airily, looking away, "I just wanted to, you know, confirm it myself with my own two eyes. How you dress when you're on the ship is different compared to how you look right now."

Doflamingo pursed his lips. 

"Is that so?," Rosinante breathed out deliberately. "How...interesting."

Ugh. How Doflamingo dressed on the ship was the same as how he dressed when off the ship, damn it. But he couldn't do anything to discount what the girl had said, and now Rosinante was going to relentlessly chide him about pots and kettles. Mercilessly, he shoved the girl's head, not unlike how he had done so for Rosinante earlier, prompting an angry squeak out of her. "Alright, you had your fun. I'll take you back to Vergo, you little rascal."

A flicker of confusion passed her face before a grin took over. "But Vergo is such a wet sock. Do I have to?"

To his dismay, Doflamingo couldn't help but feel impressed. She had no idea who Vergo was and yet she behaved as though she had known him long enough. Hell, without meeting him (at this age, at least), she got it right about Vergo being a drag. Was this really the same girl who had wailed about being called an old hag? Who knew that she could act? No doubt that she was going to give him one hell of a whiplash, however; she was going to have him teeter-tottering between annoyed and fascinated. 

He swiftly squashed the fascination. No matter what, she was still a thorn in his side. More so after that wholly unnecessary lie about his usual state of attire. 

"Don't be a brat, brat. Now, c'mon, you probably have poor Vergo running around looking for you." He turned the girl around so that she was facing the other end of the hall. He then said to Rosinante, "Sorry, Rosi. I gotta play escort to this miscreant here."

It didn't escape his notice that the girl perked up at the mention of Rosinante's nickname. 

"It's fine. We still have time until the meeting," Rosinante said, shrugging. "I'll see you inside, Doffy."

After steering the girl down the hall and making a turn around a corner, the girl glanced up at him, her expression lit up with intrigue. "So that's the infamous Rosi I heard so much about? I should've known—he looks just like you!"

Doflamingo raised an eyebrow. "Do I talk about my brother to you in the future?"

"Not really. It's more like you just name-drop him." She scratched her cheek. "Remember how you were eleven and you wanted to know where I got the name Doffy from?"

He did and he didn't want to. 

The girl frowned and peered at him meaningfully.

"What?" he huffed.

"Do you also remember how you doubted me when I told you that I got the name from you?"

"Don't tell me that you're holding a grudge. Sheesh, how old were you that misunderstanding took place? And, besides, I was just a kid. Give me a break."

"For me, it was just last year," she sniffed imperiously. 

"Good for you. You're still a child," he deadpanned. 

"Hey, don't treat me like I'm a baby! I'm sixteen—nearly an adult!"

Sixteen, seventeen, whatever—still a child in his eyes. Doflamingo stifled the urge to drag a hand down his face. He wasn't even close to thirty, and yet he felt...uncomfortably old. He didn't feel this way whenever he looked at Baby 5 or Buffalo, so why did he now? And, for that matter, why didn't he feel something about the girl's arrival?

Doflamingo would have understood anger given the inconvenience and the prolonged unexplained absence. He would have understood bewilderment for the same reasons. Heck, sorrow would have made more sense than the neutrality that he found himself in. And, absurdly enough, he felt contentment. It was as though he was meeting up with a long friend, and that was baffling because when had he ever regarded her as such?

(This wasn't like how he had been fifteen when she had returned to him at long last. This was...)

A dark corner of his mind suggested that the girl was somehow using her powers to sway him, to manipulate him. That he ought to end her before she completely got a hold of him. The goal was easy enough to deduce—he was a strong and notable figure among the marine officers, and to have him dancing to her tune would be incredibly useful.

Perhaps that had been why she had targeted him at a young age. She had been grooming him all this time. She had been doing this so that he would be unaware of her plans—

"How old are you, then?" The girl's voice brought him out of his musings, her tone challenging. "Forty?"

He shot her a look. "Twenty-three," he grunted. 

"You certainly didn't age well," she taunted.

Yeah, no. Doflamingo knew that he had grown up very handsomely. He was the epitome of male beauty. To rest his case, he stuck out his foot, causing the girl to trip and fall on her face with a shriek. 

"Oh, how real mature!" she groused. 

"That's what you get for besmirching my loveliness," Doflamingo said, miming the motion of flinging away his imaginary long locks. This caused the girl to snort, to which she quickly smothered with a glare. 

"That's not funny!" she snapped, picking herself up. 

She was right. This wasn't funny. What the hell was he doing? Clowning around with a kid? What on earth?

Feeling vaguely disoriented, Doflamingo shook his head as he picked the girl up by the back of her jumper. She squeaked when she hung in the air and nearly stumbled back down when he got her onto her feet. 

Woodenly, he appraised her. 

"Are you ever going to tell me your birthday?" he wondered aloud.

She frowned. "Your older self told me not to. Although, I don't know why, seeing how you and your younger selves keep pestering me about it!"

"Given how old you are, you probably only had to deal with me asking you that twice," he felt obliged to point out. 

"Yeah, but your older self said that I'll have to put up with your birthday questions later in _my_ future," she replied petulantly. "Do you have any idea why you'll tell me to keep it a secret?"

Was it the same reason why he had told her younger self not to reveal her name to him? 

Doflamingo shook his head. "Beats me. Why did you show up in front of my brother? Did you want to see who he is that badly?"

"Hey, that was unintentional!" the girl protested. "I don't get to pick where and when I get dragged here! Sometimes I'll be doing homework or eating dinner, and the next thing I know is that I'm getting kicked by a dumb brat with an antenna hairdo. So far, I've been lucky that I haven't been pulled in when I'm, like, bathing or on the toilet or something."

Doflamingo hummed noncommittally at that. When he had been seven, he remembered the girl telling him that she couldn't choose when to leave. If her time-traveling powers behaved on its own accord when disappearing, then the reverse could hold true as well. She didn't choose when to meet him; it just happened.

Then those three-year and five-year gaps—those hadn't been her doing but her power. 

Doflamingo stopped at the threshold of the building, standing at the edge of the bright opening where crystal blue waters and flat-topped structures stretched before him. The girl, despite having been wary of marines in another time frame, took in the base with amazed widened eyes. With a gasp, she whispered, "This place is huge!" 

She could certainly change, Doflamingo observed. She was also a great actress and quick on the uptake, as demonstrated when she had helped him fool Rosinante. Did she have prior experience in acting or was she naturally talented?

Furthermore, she was adaptable; she had to be after these random encounters with these varying versions of himself. Doflamingo wasn't so prideful to deny that he could be a difficult person to interact with, especially in his youth. And yet this girl, regardless of how short their time together would be, had managed better than most people could. 

The realization was almost startling. Almost. 

Doflamingo felt his suspicion rekindle. 

She could act, so she could deceive. She could adapt, so she could modify her plans accordingly. If she had a plan, that was, but he wasn't going to ignore that possibility. 

He should strike her down. Right now. Before her plans could come to fruition. He should stop her. He should kill her. The urgency—the temptation to act—somehow felt insidious, like scratching an itch on his neck when he was clawing someone else's to the point of decapitation. Yet would it be so wrong? Wouldn't he be in the right to make a preemptive strike if it meant protecting himself?

And then the girl looked up at him, and he was abruptly reminded just how young she was. When he had been her age, he hadn't been so innocent, but he could see clearly that they weren't the same... Because she _was_ innocent; she was just a _child_. 

The suspicion faded, only to be replaced by discomfort. 

"Uh, not that having a big place is anything special," the girl said, plastering on a grin. "Being a pirate trumps anything you get as a marine, obviously!"

"Hm." Doflamingo cocked his head. "Then I suppose you don't care for a tour?"

"A tour?" she exclaimed. "Really? Yeah, I'd want one! Erm, not because I'm interested in being a marine or anything! It's, you know, scoping for secrets for when I become a pirate."

The girl didn't get a chance to "scope for secrets"; she disappeared minutes after exiting the building.

* * *

When Doflamingo was twenty-four, he was stunned to see the girl again. Not because he hadn't expected to see her again after her five-year disappearance, but because of how she looked like. 

To refer her as a girl wouldn't be right. At least, not at this moment. Just as he was a man, she was a woman. The same woman who had teased him and had danced out of his reach when he had been a boy. The same woman who he hadn't recognized to be a woman until now. 

She popped inside his room when he was perusing through the reports, not quite startling him yet not quite giving him a heads-up. Of course, since when had she ever given him a heads-up? She herself didn't receive one whenever these surprise visits happened.

But when one of them happened—one of them being right now—Doflamingo found himself stunned to see her. 

The girl—woman— _she_ turned around, looked up, and shined that brilliant smile at him. 

"Doffy," she said. 

In the following thirty minutes, his reports had been left discarded at a corner of his desk while they nursed their cups of coffee. Doflamingo listened as the woman animatedly told him her latest adventure—no truer than the rest of her tales, he was certain—as she likewise listened to his military accomplishments.

As a pirate, her distaste for and fear of the marines were apparent; however, at the same time, it was strange to know since she had never shied away from him. Her reactions were exaggerated and loud, as expected of someone with a proclivity to overreact. Yet, instead of finding them annoying, he thought they were comical. He had thought of such when he had been sixteen, hadn't he?

What a familiar feeling, he mused. At what point did he stop seeing her as an irksome existence? And how many times had he wondered about this? It felt as though he always had this question lingering at the forefront of his mind whenever the girl—woman—she would pop in, yet he could never settle on an answer, whether during her stay or after her departure. 

And what a new development it was to consider that she might possibly harbor ulterior motives. Doflamingo took a sip of his black coffee as the woman did the same with her horrendously sweet concoction. Ulterior motives that he had thought to be silly to pin down on a naive child until he would backtrack and think to himself " _What if_...?"

She could act, so she could deceive. She could adapt, so she could modify her plans accordingly. Those twinkling eyes whenever she laughed without a care—the burst of energy she would display whenever she got excited about something—the brilliance of her smile—

It could be all fake. She could be lulling him into a false sense of security.

But Doflamingo...couldn't bring himself to truly believe that. And that disturbed him.

To be forever cast under this limelight of uncertainty, to have it forever follow him no matter how far he would cross the stage—it haunted him. Doflamingo had never been one to doubt himself; he had been resolute in every decision that he had made, and yet he could never decide when it came to the girl—woman— _her_. 

Should he go forth with his plan that he had made in his childhood? Or should he leave it be? Should he kill her when they meet in their shared timeline? Or should he grant her mercy?

As these thoughts and questions swam incessantly in his head, Doflamingo leaned back in his seat with an easygoing smile stretched across his face. He showed nothing; he hid everything. Just as the woman was probably doing right now as she launched into another ridiculous story. 

"It's nice whenever we get to talk to each other like this," she said when she had finished. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. "You know, when you're not trying to pry personal information or get weirdly angry."

"Weirdly angry?" he repeated humorously. 

"You gotta admit, you were one angry kid."

He had a lot of reasons to be angry. 

"Heh. So, you don't mind whenever I make fun of you?"

To his surprise, she blushed. "O-of course I mind!" she huffed, pouting. "No one likes to be made fun of."

Doflamingo wondered how he could respond to that, but he never got to finish that line of thought when high-pitched squeals reverberated outside his door, then tapering off to a giggling echo. Thumping footfalls came in pursuit, accompanied by Buffalo's whining. 

A few seconds passed until the woman returned her attention to him, her expression brimming with curiosity. "You never did tell me how you got those kids on your ship."

"I never told you?" He figured that she already knew about them, obviously from another of her time jumps, but he didn't expect her to not know the reason. 

"The circumstances didn't lend themselves for you to get the chance to," she replied with a shrug.

"Hm. Well, if you must know, I picked up the brats two years ago. Buffalo was a street kid on one of the islands that I stopped at. He tried to pickpocket me, albeit wasn't very good at it, but he at least had the guts to pull something like that on a high-ranking officer. I thought that he was wasted on the streets, so I took him in.

"As for Baby 5... My crew and I were running low on resources, so we had to make an emergency stop at a tropical island. There, we came across this scrawny, dirty thing stumbling through the wilderness, bare as the day she was born. We weren't able to return her to her parents after locating the tribe that she belonged to, and it seemed likely that she was abandoned."

"So, you took her in like how you did with Buffalo," the woman punctuated with a nod. 

"That I did. My intention was to drop her at a nearby orphanage, but the kid wouldn't leave. Even when we managed to get her off the ship, she would somehow find her way back on. In the end, we decided: Why not?"

The woman chuckled. "How did she end up with a name like Baby 5?"

"Initially, we called her a plethora of pet names: Kid, Kiddo, Runt, Sweetheart. At some point, referring to her as Baby became the norm since she pretty much was a toddler. Couldn't speak, couldn't read, couldn't do anything on her own. We didn't know how old she was at the time, so we took her to a pediatrician to get her checked out. It turned out that this eighty-centimeter tall child was actually five-years-old."

"That's...rather short for a five-year-old."

"No kidding. None of us could have believed it, but the doc said that it was true. We always knew that her upbringing never was the best, that she grew up malnourished and abused, but never did we consider that would've resulted in her growing up wrong." Doflamingo ran a hand through his hair, recalling the grim details that the pediatrician had provided him. "It was thanks to our intervention that Baby 5 got to catch up. She's now as healthy as a horse—can run as fast as one too."

"Then she became Baby 5 because it's a reminder of her age?"

He nodded. "We used to treat her as though she was two, but all that coddling would've set her back. While I don't know whose bright idea was it to start calling her that name, it worked. And even when she turned six, we just never thought to call her anything else."

Although the fist that she rested her chin on concealed her lips, he could see the upturned corners of her smile. She gazed softly at him. "I see."

"Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry, it's just... Well, I just remembered something. I once saw you with those kids and I just thought how fortunate they were to have you in their lives." She chuckled again, tracing the tip of her finger along the edge of her cup. "They really adore you, you know?"

Hard to not know whenever those two would give him these starry-eyed looks and seek for his approval. Doflamingo felt a small surge of smug elation, regardless, pleased to hear such confirmation coming from someone who didn't always try to kiss his feet. 

As much as he trusted Trebol, Vergo, Diamante, and Pica, they were more or less his retinue of sycophants. They were too quick, too willing to do his bidding. They didn't even join the marines for the sake of exacting justice or putting down pirates; they joined because they wanted to join him. Doflamingo didn't doubt that if he decided to desert the marines and become a pirate, they would gleefully accompany him. 

They were like a pack of remoras, clinging onto the back of a shark, mindlessly trailing after the closest powerhouse. Doflamingo didn't mind, though; as long as they were strong themselves and obeyed his word, he would accept them. But that didn't change the fact that they would twist their spines just to please him.

The woman before him, on the other hand, had no qualms in telling him her opinion, no matter how insulting her words might be. 

And, boy, the number of insults that he had endured, the number of times she had pissed him off—he had long ago come to associate her with feelings of exasperation because of that. Yet it was because of these incidents that Doflamingo was able to believe her. 

If she said that those kids were lucky to have him, then that must be true.

"Heh." Doflamingo smirked. "It's not often that I get to hear a compliment from you. Tell me more."

The woman blushed again. "Don't get cocky just because I said that—oh, never mind. Fine, I think that you're pretty cool for taking care of those kids, but don't let it get to your head!"

Pretty cool, huh? Doflamingo released a deep, throaty laugh. "I'm touched that you think so!"

The woman rolled her eyes, as though that would hide her own mirth. "Yeah, yeah," she sighed. "Be honored that I've chosen to show you my good graces!"

Rather than, say, taking them for himself?

Doflamingo probably could have intimidated her into submitting herself to him. He was stronger than her currently; he had been stronger than her for quite some time. And, frankly, she seemed like she would capitulate to the right kind of aggression.

He saw moments of her flighty, nervous demeanor in nearly every incarnation of her. She used theatrical bravado to conceal her timidity. Was she a coward? Possibly. She hadn't acted like one in his memories, but she had been dealing with the child version of him. Who would show cowardice in front of a child?

Doflamingo could make her bend to his will and make her his compliant acolyte. He believed her because she wasn't fearful of him, but he could make her be afraid. Never would she talk back to him or ridicule him, and never would she tease him or dance out of his reach. His insides warmed with the idea and just how easy the job would be. Right here and right now, he could do it, and he could do it in ensuring that the woman would never plot against him and use him for her own purposes.

The actress would meet her downfall, enacted by him and him alone. 

The woman then spoke.

"I've been getting some practice in handling my powers. I mean, I've had it for years, so I'm bound to get a better grasp on it." She scratched her cheek sheepishly. "To be honest, though, I still haven't progressed to the point where I can choose whether or not I want to be thrust into the stream. All I can do so far is sense when it's going to happen and when I leave."

Doflamingo stared.

"When we finally get to meet for real, I'll tell you all about it," the woman told him earnestly. "About the stream and my powers—even about myself, if you want."

His previous thoughts and feelings fell short upon hearing that. He wasn't sure what to think or feel right now. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"It's hard to explain without going deep into the details. Just... I won't be able to see you for a while. For me, anyway. For you, you'll see me next year. But the me now will have to wait until the stream opens, whenever that'll be. The last time this happened, I had to wait six years to see you again. You experienced those times yourself, right? The years when I would be absent.

"You once asked me if I knew how long I've been gone for. I never understood what you meant until I realized that there were certain ages that I hadn't seen you as. I never got to see Baby 5 in the first year that you've taken her in or see you lead your first vessel. I didn't even get to witness you in your awkward years of entering adolescence." She grinned wryly. "And I won't be able to see those moments because this will be my last jump into your life until we meet. Don't ask me how I know that; it's way too complicated for me to say without confusing you."

"You're about to leave, aren't you?" Doflamingo said flatly.

"You got it!" she burst out jovially, and then she deflated as though the energy had been drained out of her. "That's why I wanna say my final piece before I'm outta here." The woman took a deep breath before exhaling loudly. "Doffy, throughout the years we've known each other, our time together hasn't been that long, has it? Yet, despite that, I feel as though I do know you. There's something deeper that exists between us, and it's what draws us together.

"Our fates have been intertwined, after all. I don't know if it's destiny or the universe trying to tell us something, but I know that it means something." She opened her eyes and looked at him intently. "Don't you?"

He was held by her weighted gaze, petrifying him on the spot. Suddenly, Doflamingo felt as though he had committed a grave sin for entertaining the notion of subduing her. Never mind how he might have been justified if the issue had been a defensive one; there was this encompassing wave of wrongness that, had he been a lesser man, he would have thrown himself to the ground. Pinpricks of nerves ran down his spine as unease curdled within him. 

Was that it? Why he could see her so vividly in his memories? Recall her words and voice perfectly from every incarnation? Because of _fate_?

His heart pounded heavily against his rib cage as he matched her stare with his own. Just who was this woman to him, really? His soulmate? Was that why she kept appearing in his life?

Was she even telling him the truth?

If not, then why did he feel the way he felt? _What did any of this meant?_

"In a sense," he lied. 

The woman, none the wiser, nodded. "I'm glad." She rose from her seat, set her cup on his desk, and walked around to stand in front of him. Even when sitting, he dwarfed her in size, yet that didn't seem to matter as she casually inserted herself between his knees and nearly nestled against the planes of his chest. He kept still in this duration, curious in a blank, distant way as to what she planned to do.

She pressed her small hands on his shoulders, leaned in, and pressed her lips against his.

When she pulled back, her face was lit up like a pink light bulb as she gave him a small bashful smile. "Despite what you may think," she said, "I'm the one who made the first move."

And then with a resounding " _pop_!", she vanished.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was supposed to be posted on my other fic, "The Love Life of Lady Longnose," but I then noticed that it was going to be too long and my progress was taking forever. I mean, I had this story sitting in my desktop for months and months! I decided that, instead of posting the complete story as a oneshot, why not post what I have now and continue on later? 
> 
> I'm aware that there may be out of character moments. I know that Doflamingo is a character with certain characteristics, like someone who is void of empathy, but I wasn't able to write him as faithfully to canon despite my best attempt. I don't think I'm that great at writing those sort of characters, but I nonetheless decided to write this story. Why? Because it's fun! I'm sorry for any readers who were displeased by this. Please keep in mind that Doflamingo will be different compared to his canon self as time progresses. 
> 
> When the story is over, I'll post a timeline of the ages that Doflamingo and Usopp have met.


End file.
